Gemotions

He felt his vision blur. The garden, his pride and joy, had always been his sanctuary. He'd spent years cultivating rare roses, nurturing exotic orchids. Now, his son, Finn, was out there, meticulously cross-pollinating his prize-winning blooms, his brow furrowed in concentration. Finn was already talking about grafting techniques, soil pH levels, and breeding new varieties, knowledge he somehow gleaned from somewhere. "Dad," he called out, his voice sharp with purpose, "I need some more of the specialized fertilizer." He felt a cold dread creep into his chest.